Saturday, October 30, 2010

Out With the Old

When my daughter's friends find out that I deliver papers in the neighborhood where they know people they always ask "Do you deliver to so-and-so?" My answer is always that I'll have to check my list. I only know my customers by their address, not by name, and 16 year old girls never know their friends' addresses. I have no relationship with any of my customers. I've only ever spoken a word or two in passing to a handful of them.

Why on earth did I give a sad sigh when I saw a realtor's for sale sign in one of their yards this morning? I don't even know their name. Weird that I would be sad to see the family at 26 Maplewood moving when I've never even said hello to them.

Perhaps its an automatic response to change. Maybe subconsciously I assume the worst scenarios. You know: foreclosure, death, unpaid taxes. Quite possibly I'm just hoping they'll remember to tip me before they go.

I think the "Awww" response is based upon my nature. Even though I don't know them, delivering their paper EVERY SINGLE MORNING gives me the right to mourn the change. I'm more than just their paper girl. I'm a writer who absorbs the details and creates imaginary worlds around anything I see.

I know them in a creepy stalker kind of way that non-paper-delivering/non-writing folks can't appreciate. I know that they have an exercycle in the basement that they use as a clothes hanger. I know that 3 weeks ago somebody left the sliding door to their minivan opened all night. I know that somebody often sleeps on the couch and that they never turn their television off. And now the repairs they made to the front entry (I tripped over the baracade) make sense.

Good luck dear home owner. May the selling process be kind to you. Where ever you end up may you find quality home delivery for your daily news. For me, please sell to someone with interesting quirks so I may weave a tale around the life of the new family living at 26 Maplewood.

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